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If I had a sign it would say, “CALLING ALL SINGLETONS AND MORE!” Male, or female. Old, or young. Games of Thrones fan, or not. I’m looking for some new guest bloggers to hang out and talk about the nitty gritty relationship stuff. Whether you are single OR in a relationship, I want you!

Yeah, that’s right, I’m talking to you married folk, too.

Fill out this form and tell me a little bit about yourself and I’ll check ya out and see if you would fit. You could be a reocurring guest blogger, or a one-hit wonder. It’s up to you! I just know the world wants to hear your story, and this is a safe place to tell it.

This blog is about relationships, and it’s mission is to make people with broken hearts feel less lonely — women feel less insane about having emotions — and men feel less baffled by lady emotions. The goal is simple: let’s talk about the complexity of relationships and lurv. Clearly, there is a lot to talk about, and neverending stories to tell.

I can finally drive down the street, around the block from where I currently live, past the apartment where MF and I lived together from April to September. It used to be the case that I would force myself to drive by there (when it was on the way) in an attempt to face my fear and “get over it.” It never worked. I would get sick to my stomach and feel like shit after the drive by.

He no longer lives there. He moved out a couple of weeks after I did. Before I broke up with him the plan was to find a bigger place for us both to fit comfortably in. I couldn’t have my cat with his three cats (because she would be attacked by the girl cat), and I was hoping the extra space would alleviate the problem so I could get my fluffy love back (she had been staying at my mom’s place in Tulsa). So we didn’t renew the lease. Because of the breakup and lease going up, he moved in with his dad so he could save money since he just started his own motion graphics/website company.

The Garage Lofts were always a soft spot in my heart. Memories, usually good, would come flooding back when I would see those lofty windows staring back at me. I would imagine myself looking out them, as I often would. But this time I was on the other side. Looking up, from the street, from my car, driving by, silently screaming inside. Confused. Heart broken.

But a couple of months ago I drove by and I guess I am done dealing with it, because nothing came rushing over me. Except for relief that nothing was rushing over me. It wasn’t painful to look at. I could just stare at it and feel indifferent.

Everyone has those spots. Those spots that just hurt to look at. Just remember it goes away eventually. But it’s ok to be sad. It’s ok to avoid that street. Do what you need to do until that spot is sore no more.

And with this, that concludes my 3 post series of purging MF memories. I’m done. This is me telling you I will write about MF no more. The MF chapter of this 25swf life is finally closed. June 17, 2011.

Yours with a new destination,

25swf

*This is the third (and last) post in a series of three memories from my relationship with MF I seek to purge.